The Madonna of the Atlas
by ucsbdad
Summary: A chilling story from an FBI agent gives Rick an idea for a story. Oddly enough, the main characters are named Richard Castle and Kate Beckett. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

Kate Beckett decided that she really didn't like Special Agent Corrine Grogan. As usual with the FBI, "cooperating" meant doing everything their way. Accordingly, they were sitting in Grogan's black Suburban with tinted windows, hoping that their suspect would show up at his girlfriend's apartment. Grogan was in the driver's seat and Castle was in the other front seat. Since Castle had been the only one to get a real good look at the suspect, that made sense. Kate didn't like it, but it made sense.

_Both Castle and I went through hell before we got together. I will not let some tall, leggy, blonde, blue eyed FBI agent with big boobs make a move on _my _man._ She thought.

For about the hundredth time, Grogan turned to look at Castle. Kate decided she really did hate Grogan. To hell with only disliking her.

"is there some reason you keep looking away from the girlfriend's apartment building, Grogan?" Kate snapped.

Grogan's head snapped back to looking straight ahead. "Not at all, Detective Beckett."

It took all of two minutes for Grogan to look at Castle again.

"Do you want to trade places, Grogan?" Kate said angrily. "That way you can look at my partner and we can have two sets of eyes on what we're supposed to be doing here."

"I was _not_ looking at your partner!" The blonde snapped back.

"You weren't looking where you were supposed to." Castle said gently.

Perhaps because Castle had been the one to talk, Grogan seemed to relax. "My last case was a hard one. It was different. Different from anything I'd seen before. It made me jumpy. There's a solid wall on my left here, but open space to my right. I just keep checking for…something that isn't there. Something that'll never be there. I hope."

"You're an experienced agent." Beckett said. "At least that's the word we got. How bad could it have been?"

"Have you ever heard of the Madonna of the Atlas?" Grogan asked, softly.

"Is she a blonde that likes bustiers?" Castle asked.

Kate refrained from rolling her eyes, not wanting to give Grogan any kind of an opening with Rick.

Grogan shook her head. "At the beginning of the fifth century as the Roman Empire was falling apart, a group of Christians took off to hide in the Atlas Mountains in what is now Algeria. They took with them a statue of the Madonna, about two feet tall and beautifully carved. I've seen it. The detail and workmanship are spectacular. It's worth millions."

"When the Muslims overran North Africa, they killed the Christians there, but the statue was carefully hidden away. After the First World War, the French, who had conquered Algeria, found the statue. France's economy was in shambles because of the war, so they sold it to a rich American, Hamish McCleod, who put it in the McCleod Art Museum, where it stayed until two years ago. It was stolen by an American born Jihadist named Faheem Ansari who wanted to sell it to fund his jihad. He arranged to sell it to a German dealer, but the German police intercepted the statue. They didn't get Ansari. He had used a middle man for the deal and wasn't even in Germany."

"So far it doesn't sound too bad." Castle said, smiling at the blonde agent.

"We tracked Ansari to the Sahel, the part of Africa between the Sahara Desert and the jungles. I was attached to a French force, part of their Operation Serval. There were Foreign Legion armored cavalry and paratroop units, French Marine paras and artillery, French Special forces and a couple of hundred of what passes for the army of Mali. They wore bits and pieces of uniforms with civilian clothes, usually wore sandals rather than boots, and drove Toyota pick up trucks with heavy weapons in the truck bed. I don't know how the jihadis felt about them, but they scared the shit out of me."

"Must not have been the usual FBI mission." Castle said.

Grogan laughed. "I knew before I ever got there that we weren't going to just grab Ansari, show him our warrant, read him his rights and go to the nearest FBI Field Office."

Grogan took several deep breaths and looked straight ahead. Kate decided she was thinking about what happened.

"Ansari was in a little village around a small oasis off in the middle of noplace. It was just mud huts and mud walls. We came roaring out of the scrub just before dawn, preceded by helicopter gunships firing missiles and cannons. The villagers began to fight back. I think everyone in the village had at least an AK 47. But the French had too much firepower. When the infantry finally moved in, pretty much everyone was dead: Men, women and children. A saw a young boy who was on the ground, bleeding. A paratrooper went to check him. The kid sat up and shot the para with a pistol. His protective vest kept him from getting hurt, all it did was knock him over. But a machine gunner put a burst into the boy's head. I got blood and brains all over me. The boy couldn't have been more than ten years old."

"But old enough to try to kill someone." Castle said.

"I know. But I still see him….I still see him."

"Are you seeing a psychiatrist?' Kate asked.

Grogan nodded. "It helps. But it takes a long time. It wasn't just the boy. The Malians made sure everyone in the village was dead by firing an entire burst into them. They cut off heads and kicked them around like balls. They castrated male corpses and cut off the breasts of the dead women. The French just stood by and did nothing. _I_ just stood by and did nothing. The Malians presented the French commander with what was left of Ansari. It was ghastly."

Kate put her hand on Grogan's shoulder. "I was shot over a year ago. I was a complete mess. I had a good psychiatrist to help me and an even better partner. Keep at it, you'll come out the other side."

"You know, Detective Beckett, maybe we should change places for a while."

"I think we should and please call me Kate."

In spite of the change, their suspect never showed and everyone went back to the 12th Precinct.

The next day, at the loft, while having breakfast, Castle asked Beckett what they were going to do that day.

"Luckily for us, the FBI has taken off to the wilds of Connecticut, where the NYPD has no jurisdiction. Since the FBI can't stand the thought of a bunch of local cops arresting their man, we've been stood down until they get back. All we're doing today is catching up with some paperwork. Do you want to come in and do your share?"

"My share of paperwork is zero percent, thank you. I want to do some writing today. That was quite a story Grogan told yesterday."

Kate groaned theatrically. "Oh no. Is Nikki Heat going to air assault some village to the sounds of _The Ride of the Valkyries_?"

Castle smiled. "Now there's an idea. Nikki could be into surfing and strips down to her bikini and gets out her board. I like it."

Kate laughed. "I love the smell of a grande skim latte with two pumps of sugar free vanilla in the morning. It reminds me of….coffee."

She kissed Castle and went to work.

Castle did a bit of research on the internet and began writing.

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

Richard Castle

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

Captain Richard Castle checked to saddle, bridle and other tack for his mount, Onyx. Satisfying himself that all was well, he mounted and walked Onyx back along the line of the troopers in his squadron.

The Great War had led to the collapse of three empires: Germany, Austria-Hungary and Russia. After losing the civil war to the Communists, many Russians had fled and had mainly gone to France. Enough Russian cavalrymen had fled to allow the Foreign Legion to raise a cavalry regiment. More than two thirds of Castle's squadron were Russians.

He approached 1 Troop. Its commander was _Sous-Lieutenant_ Jobert, the only other commissioned cavalry officer in the squadron. He was only two years out of the military academy of _St. Cyr _but he had spent a year fighting the Rif in Morocco. That was a very hard school for a young officer to learn in, but he had.

Castle and Jobert exchanged salutes. Then Castle inspected the troop. Just behind Jobert was the two- man team for the Chauchat light machine gun. Castle cursed to himself. It had taken the generals in Paris the whole of the Great War to make the changes to turn the Chauchat from a useless piece of _merde _to a merely usually useless piece of _merde._ The troopers had Lebel rifles over their shoulders, Castle noted. The worthless Berthier carbines were now gone. Despite the lessons of the Great War, generals in Paris still looked forward to massed cavalry charges with every soldier wielding a saber and using carbines only when absolutely necessary. The Legion had learned to fight on foot with rifles and use horses to get from place to place.

2Troop was commanded by _Adjutant_ Chernoff, a Russian. Chernoff had fled from Russia when Wrangel's White Army had been defeated by the Reds. He had been a cavalry captain in the Czar's Imperial Guard and entered the Legion's first cavalry unit. His knowledge and bravery had seen him promoted to _Adjutant_, but Castle felt he would not long be a warrant officer, and would soon be a commissioned officer. Given that he had recently married the daughter of an aristocratic French cavalry general, Castle was sure Chernoff would be a colonel before Castle was a major.

Chernoff gave Castle a sharp salute and a smile. As usual, Chernoff was perfectly turned out, freshly shaved and bathed, and if Castle's nose was correct, doused with cologne. Also, as usual, Chernoff's troop was perfectly turned out. Castle felt that the troop looked better than it actually was.

3 Troop was commanded by _sergent-chef_ John Smith. In spite of his name, Castle was sure that English was not his native language. Smith did speak over a dozen languages, all badly. Some said he was a jewel thief on the run from the police and his partners. Others that he was a ruined American millionaire hiding from his creditors. Castle thought he was a Balkan hobo of some sort with a minor gift for languages. Smith was an old sweat who had been in the Legion since 1910 and knew every trick for avoiding work and killing people that there were. His troopers never fooled him on anything and had long since stopped trying. They were very good at killing.

Next was the machine gun troop with two Hotchkiss heavy machine guns, carried on pack horses. _Sergent_ Brodski, a Pole was in charge. Allegedly he had served in the German Army, the Russian Army and the Austro-Hungarian Army on the eastern front, deserting whenever it suited him. Brodski himself was remarkably closed mouthed about himself.

Castle looked at one of the horses carrying ammunition. "_Legionnaire_ Giamatti's horse's load is loosely tied on the left. The ammo will fall off in a mile." Castle sighed as Giamatti retied the load. He could have inspected the loads blindfolded and known Giamatti's was done wrong somewhere.

Next was an attached artillery troop consisting of a single 65 millimeter mountain gun, broken down into several parts so it could be borne by several horses. _Sergent _Doukas who was Greek and very good with a knife was in charge. Castle didn't know how good he was with artillery as he hadn't seen the gun in action.

Then there was the pack train, nominally under Surgeon-Captain Maine who sat on his horse like a loosely loaded sack of potatoes. He was a good doctor though. The actual work of supervising the pack horses that carried the squadron's food, water, ammunition, medical supplies and whatnot was left to _Caporal_ Jeune, a Belgian ex-pimp. Somehow, Jeune always looked well fed. But, everything was there when needed and Jeune did have a way with the Berbers who led the packhorses.

Lastly were two dozen mounted Berbers, descendants of the inhabitants of North Africa before the Arabs invaded centuries before. They wore native clothing but carried French rifles and as much ammunition as they could carry. They were the squadron's scouts. Tariq, their youthful leader smiled at Castle.

"Are we ready, Captain Castle?" He asked in Berber.

"Almost, my good friend. There is one more to join us." Castle answered, also in Berber.

As if on cue, the main gate of Fort Zinderneuf opened and the last member of the party rode out. The morning desert sun shone on her chestnut curls and lightly lit her pale skin and her perfect cheekbones. She wore a khaki shirt, and trousers, making her indistinguishable from a _Legionnaire_ at any distance. But up close it was obvious that the American writer Katherine Beckett was a woman and what a woman she was. She rode a magnificent white Arab stallion with another following her as a remount. Behind her a small Arab boy was perched atop her packhorse.

Castle wondered how she had ever managed to get the generals in Paris or Algiers to allow her to accompany his squadron. Then he laughed to himself. All she needed the bend the generals to her will was a smile, a wink with her gorgeous hazel eyes and perhaps a small wiggle of her perfect _derriere_.

Not that she was unused to the rough and tumble life. She had served as a nurse on the Isonzo Front in Italy and had gone to the foremost trenches to bring wounded men back to the hospitals. After the Great War she had gone to Paris and mixed with the expatriate writers and artists who had flocked there. Her book about her experiences in the Great War had made her rich and famous. Her writings about the "lost generation" that followed the Great War had made her a literary icon.

He noted that she had a Lebel rifle in a scabbard on her horse and an American .45 Colt strapped to her hip, as well as a bandoleer of ammunition for both weapons over her shoulder. Oddly, Castle also carried an American .45 which he had gotten from a wounded American Army officer in exchange for a really good bottle of brandy. He had always hoped the American got as much use from the brandy as he had from the Colt.

As Beckett approached him, he bowed lightly to her. "Do you wish to travel at the head of the column, Miss Beckett? You won't be bothered by the dust and the sand kicked up by the horses."

She smiled but shook her head. "I think I'll just ride in whatever part of the column that suits me, Captain. But thank you."

Castle took his place at the head of his squadron and gave the order to march. As the squadron moved out at a walk, the Berber scouts moved out at a gallop. They would cover the head of the column, the flanks and the rear so the tiny French force wouldn't be surprised. At least that was the theory.

The first day of a patrol was always the slowest. No matter how experienced everyone was, things always went wrong. Horses managed to lose horseshoes now matter how carefully they had been checked, small sores were found on the horses, pack loads shifted uncomfortably on pack horses, ammunition or other supplies fell from damaged packs, but on this patrol, at least, only minor problems arose.

They arrived at the small deserted oasis of Siwa two hours before nightfall. Each night, when possible, a Legion force would build a parapet of stones around their encampment. This had been done hundreds of times at Siwa, but each time the Arabs would scatter the stones so that the _Legionnaires_ must gather the stones and build their parapet anew.

The horses were hobbled, the machine guns and the cannon were set up, and the men scattered to bring in the rocks to build the parapet. Luckily, the Arabs hadn't been interested in moving the largest rocks any great distance away. When the parapet was built, stones about the size of a man's head were placed on top. Hopefully, in the dark, Arab riflemen wouldn't be able to tell the difference between a head and a stone.

While Castle had been supervising all of this, Miss Beckett had been making coffee. From the smell, Castle could tell it was far better than what the _Republique_ provided for her soldiers.

"Would you like some coffee, Captain Castle?" She asked as he passed her.

He knew it would be best to decline, but the smell of the coffee was too enticing. Not to mention the smell of the beautiful American. He nodded and sat with her.

"I put a bit of vanilla in my coffee. Would you like some?"

He shook his head. "Black coffee for me, thank you."

"That'll keep you awake." She teased.

"Perhaps. But a _Legionnaire_ who sleeps lightly is less likely to end up dead."

She changed the subject. "How did an Englishman end up in the French Foreign Legion?"

He couldn't deny being English. He had spoken to her in English before he learned she spoke perfect French. "It's considered inappropriate to ask that of _a Legionnaire_." He replied stiffly.

She shrugged. "Many people have thought that I do inappropriate things. And I do."

He thought back to the early summer of 1914. That slut Meredith had enticed him into her bedroom. At the worst possible moment, James and Joyce had walked in on them. Meredith had screamed and said he had attacked her. His life changed in an instant. All of his friends believed Meredith. She was one of them and he was not. He was expelled from university and his middle-class parents, who had struggled and sacrificed to help him advance in the world, were devastated. He had left England for France.

Then the war had begun.

He decided to tell her a half truth. "I was in France when the war began, Miss Beckett. All of a sudden there were soldiers marching everywhere, flags of all the allied nations being waved, bands playing patriotic tunes. I enlisted."

"You're English. Why not enlist in your own army?"

He shrugged. "Youthful stupidity. Everyone thought the war would be over in a few weeks. Months at the most. Soldiers were telling their loved ones, "Don't worry. We'll be home before the leaves fall." I didn't want to miss the war by going all the way back to England." Which was true if not the complete truth.

"Why stay in after the war?"

"I found I had a calling as a soldier. I entered the front lines in 1915 as an ordinary soldier of the Legion. I emerged from the war in November 1918 as a captain. I really had nothing better to do."

"Would you care to have dinner with me, Captain? I assure you the food that I brought is far superior to what you'll be eating."

Sadly, he shook his head. "There's a saying: Horses first, men second, officers third, self, last. I don't want to eat better than anyone else." He added with a smile. "The horses would be upset."

Dinner was cooked and eaten, and the fires put out by last light. Once it was fully dark, and before the moon was up, the machine guns and the cannon were re-sited. That way any Arab observer would not know where they were positioned. At the same time, the Berber scouts slipped over the parapet and quickly vanished into the night. They would position themselves some hundreds of meters away to watch for an attack.

Castle woke at ten o'clock as he usually did, to make his rounds. As he rolled out of his blankets, he heard Miss Beckett whisper to him. "Is everything all right, Captain."

"Yes." He whispered back. "I'm going to make my rounds and check on the sentries." He was back in half an hour and was asleep a minute after that.

He was woken by a short burst of machine gun fire, which he recognized as coming from the Hotchkiss gun in the north side of their perimeter. A short burst from a Chauchat quickly followed. Tightly controlled chaos followed for a minute as _Legionnaires_ moved to their posts, non-commissioned officers bellowed orders, horses stomped and bursts of fire lit the night. Castle could see his men firing into a shadowy mass some two hundred meters from them. The entire squadron was awake now and everyone was firing, from all parts of the perimeter.

"I don't see any muzzle flashes out there. "_Sergent-chef_ Smith said. "We should be taking fire."

Castle began yelling. "Cease fire! Cease fire!"

The cry was taken up by the troop commanders and NCOs. In a minute all was quiet.

"Flare guns. Get some flare guns." Castle ordered.

_Caporal _Jimenez produced three flare guns and flares. Castle took one, and Smith took one. "On three we fire. One, two, three."

Three flares arced into the night sky, then the flares burst, bathing the ground in an eerie light.

"The Arabs are all wearing white burnooses." Jimenez said.

"White burnooses, like hell." Castle spat. "Those are sheep."


	3. Chapter 3

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

Somehow Miss Beckett was next to him. "We could have fresh mutton instead of the alleged food you've been eating." She began to stand up, but Castle grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. In the dying light of the flares he could see her glare at him.

"Arab raiders could have driven the sheep towards us to mark where our heavy weapons are, or in hopes we'd leave the perimeter. You could be shot if you stood up."

Beckett nodded. "Thank you." Then she added. "Wouldn't the scouts have reacted to an attack? If this was one?"

He shrugged. "If they're still alive. Or perhaps they were waiting for the attack to begin before attacking from the rear. Or maybe they saw it was only some lost shepherd with his flock, and did nothing."

She nodded again and headed back to her bedroll.

Castle moved the machine guns again, just to be sure, checked the sentries and finally went back to his bed. As he lay there, he remembered the feel of Beckett's arm. Smooth skin and supple muscles. He wondered how those arms would feel around him. He remembered a photo of her in a Paris newspaper. She wore the short skirts that had become popular after the war. She had magnificent legs. He wondered how those would feel wrapped around him. He shook his head to clear it. No wealthy and famous American writer would ever be interested in some soldier.

Dawn showed that the sheep had been mauled or taken away by predators, whether two legged or four legged was unknown. The Berber scouts came drifting in reporting that they had seen no one but the shepherd.

"Perhaps that was all there was." Said Tariq. "Perhaps not. Only Allah knows."

The squadron got underway again with a minimum of fuss. Some hours after noon, a pair of Berber scouts came galloping up to the column.

One of them smiled at Castle and salaamed. "There is a caravan at the abu Zim well. We counted sixty-one camels. Not enough to drink the well dry, but Tariq has said they appear to be settling in for the night. They are going south while we go north. Merchants will welcome us as protection against raiders."

Castle nodded and looked at the sun. They could afford to stop for the night at the well.

"What is this well?" Miss Beckett asked. She had ridden up beside him.

"Many years ago, perhaps hundreds, or even thousands of years ago, someone dug a well in the desert, through twenty or thirty meters of solid rock. Even in the hottest and driest years, the well is always full of good water. We'll stop there for the night."

The squadron rode slowly up to the well and were greeted by the assembled merchants. Castle dismounted and was offered small, but very sweet cups of Turkish coffee. He offered larger cups of French coffee. The merchants thanked Castle in very flowery language for stopping there and providing protection from raiders. Castle noted that the caravan's guards were very well armed and said he was happy to add his forces to theirs. Neither party mentioned that in different circumstances, each would be happy to kill the other.

As Castle was setting the squadron up for the night, Tariq motioned to him. "One camel of one Ibn Said from the Fezzan is quite heavily loaded with sheepskins. So loaded that a suspicious man might think that something heavy was under those skins."

Castle nodded. "I am a suspicious man. Let us go see _Sergent-Chef_ Smith and then see what may be."

The two men walked slowly to where Smith was and appraised him of what Tariq had found. Smith called _Legionnaires_ Steiner and Konev to him and explained things to them. Then, all five men walked towards Ibn Said and his oddly heavy camel, all the time talking animatedly among themselves.

Before he knew what had happened, Castle found himself on his back with a burning pain in his side. He could hear gunfire and shouting, but could see nothing but the sky. Then Kate Beckett's face appeared over him.

"You've been shot." She said, matter-of-factly.

"I've been shot before." He replied. "What's happening? Help me get up." He tried to sit up, only to be held down by the American.

_Sergent-chef _Smith walked up with a rifle in his hand. "He was smuggling guns, sir. Seventeen Spanish Mauser rifles and about 1200 rounds of ammunition. Either stolen, bought or taken from the dead in Spanish Morocco."

"What about Ibn Said?" Castle demanded.

"Dead with one of his men, the one who shot you. His other men swear upon the Koran that they knew nothing of this."

Castle grimaced. He could feel the pain now that the adrenaline was wearing off. "Destroy the weapons and ammunition. We may as well let the rest of his men go….."

He was interrupted by Surgeon-Captain Maine. "We need to look at your wound, sir. We'll have to cut your tunic away.

"It's an old one anyway." He muttered.

Now bare chested, both Maine and Miss Beckett examined him. Beckett delivered the verdict. "You've been lucky, Captain. You have a nasty gouge along your rib cage, but you don't appear to have any damage to the bones or your lungs. We'll clean you up with alcohol and then sew you up. Just a stitch or two. Here. Drink this." He felt lukewarm coffee being poured in his mouth.

"I'd rather have coffee with a bit of rum in it." He said.

"I put some juice of the opium poppy in it. You'll rest for a few hours."

"I'm in command here! I can't be asleep!" But he could already feel his eyelids growing heavy.

When he woke up it was night. He tried to sit up, but was too woozy and fell back.

"You're awake." Beckett said. "Good."

"How long have I been out?"

"About six hours. How do you feel?"

"Fine. I need to get up." He tried again, but the very light touch of her hand on his forehead stopped him. "What's happened?"

"Your men have set up a defensive perimeter. The men and horses are all fed and watered. Everything is in order, Captain."

"What about the weapons we found?"

"Destroyed. Smith filled the barrels with sand, then pounded them into the ground, it's just sand here. He ran a string to the trigger, stood back, pulled the trigger, and the gun exploded. Then another and another. For good measure, the big corporal who shoes horses…?'

"Farrier Zinoviev." Castle supplied for her,

"Zinoviev got out a big hammer and an anvil and bashed away at what was left of the bolts and barrels. The men pulled the cartridges apart, set fire to the gunpowder and Zinoviev bashed the brass cases and the bullets to bits. No one could ever put the weapons together again."

Castle remembered something. "Thank you for your help today."

"You're welcome. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make dinner for us. I have a rather nice basket from Fortnum and Mason and a number of things from Harrods. Would you like some potted quail for dinner? With new potatoes?"

He grunted affirmatively.

"I'll have your coffee in a second."

The meal was the best he'd had since he'd gone to Paris on leave after the end of the war. Sadly, it reminded him of England and home. He did thank Miss Beckett fulsomely, however.

Castle was tired and in pain and just falling asleep again when Beckett laid out her bedroll right next to him.

"Miss Beckett!" He said, somewhat scandalized. "You shouldn't sleep right next to me."

She laughed. "I think my virtue will be safe, Captain Castle. After all, I am protected by a heavily armed squadron of cavalry. And, I need to keep an eye on my patient. Doctor Maine and I didn't see any evidence of further damage, but that doesn't mean there isn't any."

She rolled herself into her bedroll and wished him a good night.

Thoughts went through Castle's mind about what it would be like to be sleeping with Beckett, but he soon fell asleep.

Castle woke before dawn and began to get up. He found he was stiff and sore, and his side ached. Suddenly Beckett was by his side.

"You're going to try to get up, aren't you?"

"We can't stay here and being carried like supplies by a pack horse would be even worse than riding Onyx." Suddenly Castle realized something. "All I have on are my drawers. Who…? " He stopped when he realized who had undressed him.

"Really, Captain Castle. I served as a nurse in the front lines in Italy. I've seen men in much worse shape than you." She added flirtatiously, "And to be honest, you _are_ in wonderful shape." She turned away from Castle. "Bugler Kaminski, we need to get the captain up, dressed and ready to go. We'll probably need a few more people and his clothes."

Kaminski ran off and quickly came back with Tariq, Smith and Giamatti. With some cursing, interrupted by apologies to Miss Beckett, Castle was gotten on his feet and dressed. He felt lucky that Giamatti only dropped his boots on his feet twice.

Beckett rode next to him throughout the day. To keep an eye on him, she said. But Castle almost felt like he was being flirted with, but with Beckett it was hard to tell.

"Where are we headed to, exactly?" She asked after noon.

"Fort Dugny. The Third Company of the First REI is there. The _Regiment Etrangere d'Infantrie_, that is."

Beckett smiled. "I know what an REI is, Captain. Is it like Fort ZInderneuf?"

He shook his head, making him dizzy. "It's more like something from the Great War. Trenches, bunkers and barbed wire. No walls and towers like Zinderneuf."

Fort Dugny was as Castle had stated. It was a long, low hill scarred with trenches and bunkers, surrounded by a thin cordon of barbed wire. Attached to the wire were old ration tins filled with a few rocks. In theory, if someone tried to creep through the wire, the sound of the cans rattling would alert the sentries. But the blowing wind would also rattle the cans. Underneath a foot of sand, the hill was solid rock. Any rocks dug up to make trenches or bunkers were put in old oil drums and put in front of the trenches for cover. That, a company of _Legionnaires_ and Captain Klos, was Fort Dugny.

Klos stomped out to the gate of Fort Dugny to greet Castle. "By damn!" He shouted. "They said you had a beautiful woman with you, Richard, but I thought it was just Arab gossip or a mirage." Klos threw back his head and laughed. Klos was a big man, some inches taller than Castle and perhaps forty pounds heavier. His face was covered with a beard that seemed to begin at his eyes and went to his belt.

"Well, come in. Come in. We need to get your men set up before the night's festivities begin."

"You've been having trouble?" Castle asked.

Klos laughed again. "Trouble? In Algeria? Of course!" Then he was more serious. "We have snipers in the hills around us. Normally, no one could hit anything here from those hills, but the locals have some new tricks. Intelligence, for what it's worth, said they have some German deserters from the Legion that took off with some Mausers with Zeiss telescopic sights. They're either using them themselves, or have taught the locals. I've been sending my Berber scouts to try to catch them, but no luck so far_. Legionnaires_ make too damned much noise in the night." Suddenly he remembered a lady was present. "My apologies, Miss."

Beckett smiled at him. "You're right. _Legionnaires_ make too much damned noise at night."

With that, Klos roared with laughter.

Castle and his troop commanders hurried to get everyone under cover before nightfall. The horses had to be hobbled and left unprotected. Their only protection being that an Arab would much rather steal a horse than kill one.

The sun was almost down and Castle was just finishing setting up his lone mountain gun in a shallow gun pit when the first shot was fired. It missed Beckett by inches, but spattered her leg with rock fragments. The second shot arrived seconds later, zipping by her head. Castle grabbed her around the waist and dove into a slit trench, landing heavily on her.


	4. Chapter 4

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

"Are you all right?" They asked each other.

"Are you hurt?" Castle demanded.

Beckett managed to check herself for wounds or other injuries. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Fine."

"You're lying, Castle. I think you tore a stitch. I can see blood on your jacket. I'll try to fix it."

"No, you'll see a lot more blood if we move. They're shooting at us."

For the first time she noticed bullets were landing all around the slit trench, sometimes showering them with bits of rock.

"Why are they shooting at us? Can they tell you're an officer from that distance?"

"They're shooting at you. Normally, killing a woman is not considered worth a bullet. But they know how we feel about women and figure to damage our morale by killing you. Or maybe some entirely different reason."

In twenty minutes, there was full, moonless dark.

"I need to go check my men. You stay here. Don't move one inch from here."

As Castle pushed himself up, Beckett pulled him back down and pressed her lips against his. He felt her tongue pushing against his teeth and opened his mouth allowing her tongue to explore his mouth, and letting him explore hers.

"What was that for?" He asked, breaking the kiss.

"If I am to die tonight, I didn't want to die without kissing you." She pulled him down again and their tongues moved against each other once again.

"And if you are to die, Captain Richard Castle, I didn't want you to die without kissing me."

Castle brushed his lips across hers and pushed himself out of the trench. He ran to a machine gun bunker. There were no shots fired at them for some five minutes after he had left Beckett.

"They know what they're doing, all right, sir." A bearded _Legionnaire_ from the garrison at Fort Dugny said. "They fire a shot or two and then change position. And they know every inch of the ground. Our Berbers will be lucky to get near any of them. Assuming the bastards aren't setting up an ambush for them, sir."

As far as Castle could tell, as the night wore on, was that all the snipers were accomplishing was keeping the garrison alert and jumpy all night. Which was one of the things they wanted to do. He managed to snatch a bit of sleep as he moved from bunker to bunker and from trench to trench.

Before dawn came the snipers were gone. All that the Berbers had found were some Mauser rifle cartridge cases.

Castle went back to the slit trench where he had left Beckett. It was empty. "Have you seen Miss Beckett?" He asked a passing_ Legionnaire._

"In the medical bunker, sir." Was the reply.

Castle found her having coffee with the doctors. There had been two men wounded the night before, neither seriously.

"Would you like some coffee, Captain?" She asked with a smile.

He nodded and was handed a cup. "I told you to stay in the slit trench."

She nodded. "So you did. But I didn't agree to stay there. Besides, we had wounded and I am a nurse."

He decided that it would be pointless to argue.

The troop commanders had already begun to get the squadron ready to move. Castle and Beckett were ready to lead them out of Ft. Dugny not long after dawn.

"Where are we headed for?" Beckett asked.

The oasis of Taghit. It's a long ride and we'll need to fill up with as much water as we can. We'll be riding along the foothills of the Atlas Mountains after Taghit and there'll be no water until we reach the regiment's main base."

The ride through the desert was long and arduous. And, ultimately futile.

"A scout is coming in." Castle announced from the head of the column.

The Berber came to a halt by Castle and began speaking.

Noticing Castle's expression, Kate spoke. "What is it?"

"A fairly large party of raiders attacked Taghit and flattened it. Killed all the people and sheep, and threw the dead bodies into the oasis. Tariq estimates it was done three to four days ago. The water won't be fit to drink for weeks. Maybe months."

"What are we going to do?"

"March or die."

Castle decided to send a group of Berbers ahead to the regimental headquarters in hopes that they could bring water to his squadron before things got too bad. He also ordered his officers and NCOs to keep an eye on the water.

They had to ride through what was left of Taghit. Every building had been destroyed and every date palm had been chopped down. The stench of rotting bodies assaulted their noses and the whining of endless flies filled their ears. Some, including Castle and Beckett, covered their faces with cloths. Others, who had lived with corpses in the trenches of France were unmoved. But no one wanted to linger.

"We'll go five kilometers and stop." Castle said, having called his troop leaders together. "There's a hill there we can stop at that can be made defensible. We'll stay there tonight and tomorrow. From now on we'll travel at night and rest by day. If we have a bit of luck, we'll make it."

"What about the people who raided Taghit?" Beckett asked. "Where are they?"

"According to Tariq's scouts, they headed east. They've been gone for three or four days."

"They could be a day's ride from here." She shot back. "Just waiting for us."

Castle shook his head. "They only have what water they took from Taghit. There's nothing to the west but desert and they won't go north. There are too many French garrisons there. South are more entrenched French garrisons. They won't stay around here. If they do, they die."

Three nights of marching had been very hard on them. Castle had offered to share his water with Beckett, but she refused, pointing out she had tinned milk and peaches in syrup.

It was just dawn on the third day. Castle kept them going, hoping to find a defensible position for them to stop at.

"What's that over there?" Beckett asked.

"Where?" Castle said.

"In the foothills. There's a cave." She pulled out her binoculars. "Yes. Definitely a cave, with birds flying in and out."

Castle examined the area with his own binoculars. "Tariq, is there a cave there?"

The Berber leader shook his head. "There is an old, old abandoned village there, but for as long as my people have lived in this land, there was no cave there. But it appears there is. Perhaps Allah has sent us a cave?"

"Send some of your scouts to check it out. If there's a cave, it might be cool."

"And birds may be flying in and out getting water." Kate added.

A half a dozen Berbers rode towards the old village. The climb was easy, but they were cautious. Then they disappeared from view. Some ten minutes passed and then a single rider came down the hill, galloping all the way. He pulled up in front of Castle and Tariq. "Allah be praised. There is water there. Enough for a regiment. The cave entrance was blocked up with bricks and dirt. But Allah has seen fit to have the rocks fall away and the bricks open the cave."

Castle ordered the squadron to go up the hillside. There was an easy path to the old village, but the rest of the hill was quite steep and rocky. They found that the old village was little more than a few piles of bricks. The Berbers, however, had been busy tearing the blocked entrance to the cave open. Now you could ride two horses abreast into the cave,

Castle went in and found that the cave was huge. He had no idea of how far it went back, all he cared about was a very large pool of cold water not fifty meters from the entrance. He had the horses and then the men watered, then his troop commanders. Once this was done, he established a camp in the ruins of the village. When he was done, he was satisfied. Even a large force of raiders would have trouble getting at them. More likely they'd go in search of easier prey.

"Castle, there are some old buildings in there, past the pool. Will you come see?" Beckett asked.

He followed her back inside the cave. She had a flashlight which made the journey easier. The buildings weren't much, just a few courses of mud bricks, none higher than Castle's knee.

To his surprise he found _Sergent-chef_ Smith standing in the middle of what seemed the largest building ruin.

"This appears to have been a church, Sir. And Miss Beckett. Shine your torch up there and you can just see the outline of a cross. When North Africa was part of the Roman Empire, most of the Christians were Arians, a doctrine now considered heretical by the Church. When the Muslims came in the seventh century AD the local Christians were extinguished, either killed, forcibly converted to Islam or decided being a Muslim was better than being a Christian. This may have been one of the last Christian villages in North Africa."

Castle had a horrible thought. Was Smith a former priest? What could be have done to cause him to enlist in the Legion? Drinking all the Communion wine? Stealing from the poor box? Deflowering a nun? All of those? He hoped he never found out.

"There's something over here. "Beckett said, flashing her light on something in the corner.

Whatever it was had been covered with cloth. When Beckett touched the cloth, it fell apart. When they wiped the fragments of cloth away, they found a small statue.

"It's beautiful." Beckett said, softly. "It's a magnificent sculpture. Someone of great talent made this."

"A Madonna and the Christ Child." Smith said.

"It's small." Castle said. "We can take it back with us and give it to the Church or the government. Perhaps they'll send an expedition here someday."

Further discussion was cut off by the sound of gunfire from outside the cave. Castle and Smith ran out of the cave. Beckett carefully picked up the statue and walked out of the cave.

_Sous-Lieutenant_ Jobert was standing outside the cave when Castle got there. "Arabs, sir. About two hundred of them. They came riding up as if they hadn't a care in the world. But one of them spotted us and they started shooting. We drove them back to the valley floor, but they left a goodly number behind."

Castle looked down the hill. He could see the bodies of dead men and horses all the way to the plain below. There were also riderless horses being chased by Arabs. Some of the raiders had taken cover at the foot of the mountain and were taking occasional shots at the_ Legionnaires. _However, Castle had his men build a small parapet of old bricks and rocks. So far, none of the French had been wounded.

"Continue building a parapet, Jobert. They only slightly outnumber us, but if they attack coming up hill, we'll cut them to pieces. They may know there's water here. They could have been the ones to crack open the brick wall. I think that once they decide they can't get at the water, they'll leave. But no point in taking chances. And hand out flare guns and flares in case they try to rush us at night."

Castle decided to relax and rest his aching side. After all, things were looking good. Things stopped looking good two hours later.

"Captain, there are more Arabs coming." Chernoff called to him. "Lots of them."

Castle got up and moved quickly to the edge of the parapet. "Damn! There certainly are a lot of them." Below him columns of mounted Arabs rode out onto the plain below them, well out of rifle or machine gun range. Almost out of the range of their lone artillery piece.

"More coming all the time. "Jobert said, having joined the two men.

"Sir, look at the flags."

Castle trained his binoculars on a group of splendidly mounted and dressed men, surrounded by flags. The flag was red with a white diamond in the center containing the green crescent of Islam and a six-pointed star. "That's the flag of the Rif Republic. What the hell are they doing in Algeria? They should be in Morocco."

No one had an answer for that.


	5. Chapter 5

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

The French watched as column after column of Rif soldiers rode out onto the plains below them. Castle estimated there were perhaps seven thousand of them. The one saving grace that Castle could see was that they had no artillery with them. The Rif had taken artillery from the Spanish Army in their part of Morocco and had learned how to use it. However, the soldiers all appeared to be well armed and he could see a good number of machine guns below them.

"This is the only water for an army that size for many kilometers. They'll either have to take us or die of thirst. They'll prefer a quick death from a bullet to a slow one from thirst. But we can't kill them all and I'm afraid they can kill all of us."

"What do we do?" Jobert asked.

Castle shrugged. "We do a Camerone. Fight until we're dead."

He turned to Beckett who just smiled and shook her head. "Don't bother even asking about it, Castle. I could perhaps scramble up the mountain and get away. But what chance would a lone woman have, or even one with a small escort, with only the food, water and ammunition we could carry? If I'm to die, I'll die here with all of you."

To everyone's surprise a lone horseman came riding up the hill carrying a large white flag. Castle sent two men to blindfold him and bring him the rest of the way so that he wouldn't see their numbers or where their weapons were sited. He was led into the cave and had his blindfold taken off.

He smiled at Castle and spoke in excellent French. "Really, Captain Castle. There was no need to be so cautious. We know you have a slightly reinforced cavalry squadron here. One mountain gun of 65 millimeters and two Hotchkiss machine guns, and the usual Chauchats and rifles. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hadj Abdel Cheddi and I serve the Republic of the Rif. I have come to offer you life."

Castle smiled. "As you can see, we all have life."

"But for how long? We are many thousands and you are a bit over one hundred. We need the water in this cave for our horses and men. We don't need to kill you and you don't need to die. Especially someone as lovely and as talented as Miss Beckett. It would be a shame if such a promising literary career should be so abruptly terminated."

Castle nodded. "Indeed, a shame. But, I fear I must decline your generous offer. We are here to fight and fight we will."

"Exactly the answer I expected, although I had hoped for another. It's a shame you and your men won't get the fight you deserve, there being so few of you and so many of us. However, I will give you until dawn tomorrow to give me your final answer. Until then." He held out his hand and Castle shook it.

"Do you think he was serious?" Beckett asked after the emissary had left.

"Even if he was, it makes no difference. Bring seven thousand Rif soldiers up here and one of them is bound to start shooting. Then it's all over. Secondly, it's our job to fight them. We can't do anything else."

When night fell, Castle sent his Berber scouts down the hill to make sure the Rif weren't planning on sneaking up on them at night. He halfway wished that they'd keep on going so that someone would survive. He was not particularly surprised when all of them returned just before first light.

"Captain Castle, "Tariq reported, "they haven't gone any way up the hill, but they have massed machine guns and riflemen at the base of the hill and put up their own parapets. They'll start coming at us at dawn."

Tariq was correct. The machine guns below them opened up at dawn and Rif riflemen began to move up the hill, trying to find what cover there was, which wasn't much. Although the Rif were losing men, so were the French. By ones and twos they were either killed or too badly wounded to continue the fight.

Castle put his arm around Kate. "You could go into the cave. We don't know how far back it goes."

She shook her head. "Not far enough, I think."

Castle leaned down and kissed her, meeting her tongue as she opened her mouth and caressing it.

"What was that for?" She asked, but with a smile.

"If I am to die today, I don't want to die without kissing you." Then he kissed her again.

"And that?"

"If you are to die today, I didn't want you to die without kissing me."

Both grabbed their rifles and headed for the parapet. Castle hadn't gotten off a single shot when he felt a searing pain in his side. "Not again. Not the same place."

Kate put down her rifle at once and began to cut away his jacket.

"Not much point in trying to patch me up, Beckett. The Rif will be here soon."

"I'm not going to…." The rest of what she said was drowned out in a mighty series of roars.

"What the hell was that?" Castle asked. As if in answer, six two-engine bombers flew over their position, gently turned and headed back for the Rif, dropping more bombs.

"Jobert? What the hell was that?"

"The Air Force, Captain. Six of them. Five have left, but one is circling above us. I would imagine he's using his radio to tell everyone where the Rif are." Jobert suddenly looked up. "Six more bombers, sir." That was followed with another series of mighty roars.

Chernoff came walking up. "The Rif are leaving in a hurry sir. While the bombers were after the men, I saw fighter craft attacking their horse herd. If they lose their horses, without water, well, a lot of them will be finished."

"I don't believe it. You did get shot in exactly the same place. Nothing but another gouge in your chest." Beckett interrupted.

"I believe it." Castle muttered.

It was another two hours before the first French troops arrived. It was a mechanized _group mobile _consisting of Panhard armored cars, Citroen-Kegresse halftracks, Renault FT 17 tanks and truck borne infantry.

The commander, a chef de batallion named Langlade, was a member of the _Chasseurs d' Afrique_, and looked every inch the dashing light cavalry leader. He offered a sliver flask of very good brandy all around and tried not to be too surprised when Kate Beckett took a very large swig.

"You did a very good job holding them up, Captain. The Air Force is still shooting them up, especially their horse herd. We should catch quite a lot of the devils. More troops are about an hour behind us. They'll see to it that you and your men are taken care of. Now, I must be going."

Castle was carried down the mountain by his troops and eventually put on a stretcher carried by a camel that was headed back north. From the camel he was transferred to a truck and then to a train, eventually ending in a hospital in Algiers. After he had been there two days, he was more than ready to leave. It seemed that the hospital was more than willing to see him go.

There was some commotion at the entrance to the ward, and then Castle saw Kate Beckett headed for him, followed by a nurse carrying a large parcel. Kate was dressed in a very expensive looking dove grey suit that showed off her figure nicely without showing too much. Her hair, straight for the brief time he had known her, was a mass of chestnut curls. Also, she had makeup on. Not much, just enough to highlight her natural beauty.

"You must be on your way to a party." He said.

"_We're_ on our way to a party. The Governor-General wants to see you."

"The Governor-General? Of Algeria?" He asked, not at all sure why such an august personage would want to see him.

"What other Governors-General are there in Algeria? Now, we need to get you into your dress uniform." The nurse handed Kate the large package she had been holding. Kate then pulled down the covers of Castle's bed.

He pulled them back up. "All I'm wearing is one of those idiotic hospital gowns with no back."

"Castle, Marie and I have seen more naked men in hospitals than we could ever count."

Marie, presumably the nurses name, a stocky blonde, nodded in agreement and pulled the covers off. Kate pulled the hospital gown off and opened the package.

"That's not my dress uniform." He protested.

"It is now. Your other one was a disgrace. I had to have a new one made up. Lift your legs up. Now."

Castle was quickly dressed by the two women with little help from him. When they were done, Kate sniffed him. "At least they bathed you regularly." Then she ran a hand over his cheek. "But they obviously didn't shave you. Come, we must go to the barber."

They walked out of the hospital to find a cab waiting. Kate gave the driver an address that Castle had never heard of. It turned out not to be a barber's, but a beauty salon. He was the only man in the place. Castle was quickly shaved, had his hair cut and pomaded, and was given a manicure. When the beauticians were done, Kate examined him closely, thought for a moment and then had him doused with cologne. Then it was back in the taxi.

"One hundred francs if you get us to the Palace of the Governor-General in ten minutes." The cabbie smiled and hit the accelerator. What followed were ten minutes that compared unfavorably to some cavalry charges Castle had been in. He was positive he was going to die on two occasions, but both times, the cabbie cheated death while driving with one hand and making rude gestures to others on the road with his other hand. With a minute so spare, the cab screeched to a halt at the Palace. Kate tipped the driver an extra hundred francs.

"Why does the Governor-General want to see me?" Castle demanded.

"He wants to see both of us. And your troop leaders."

"And why…."

"Because you found one of the great treasures of the early Christian era. It's tremendous news all over."

By this time Kate had dragged him into a large ante-room. There he found _Sous-Lieutenant_ Jobert, looking confused.

_Adjutan_t Chernoff was standing with a pretty young blonde that Castle took to be his wife. They both were talking easily with a tall, balding cavalry general. Castle guessed that he must be General Gerard, the young lady's father, and Chernoff's father-in-law.

Lastly was _Sergent-Chef_ Smith, looking very uncomfortable in his dress uniform. The uniform seemed new and excellently tailored.

Kate whispered in Castle's ear. "Smith didn't even own a dress uniform, so I had to buy him one as well. We could hardly have him coming here in muddy boots and patched clothing."

An aide noticed the two newcomers and whispered in General Gerard's ear. The general headed straight for Rick and Kate with a smile on his face.

"Captain Castle. I see your lady has gotten you here with several minutes to spare. Excellent. And Miss Beckett, may I say you look delightful?"

"Thank you, General. I'm quite pleased to be here."

There was a brief knock on the door to the ante-room.

"Ah," said the general, "the Governor-General is ready."


	6. Chapter 6

The Madonna of the Atlas

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Non, je ne regrette rien. Rating: K Time: Season five and elsewhen.

They were led into a large chamber filled with people. Castle recognized the Governor-General, a plump, red faced, jolly looking admiral named Goddard. In spite of his cheery looks, Castle had heard that he was an absolute tyrant when he'd commanded the French Mediterranean Fleet in the Great War. Surrounding Admiral Goddard was a host of generals and admirals, few of which Castle recognized. Beside them were the serried ranks of the Catholic Church, all in black except for one gorgeously robed Cardinal, all in red. Next were a group of elderly men in what was doubtlessly their Sunday best. Castle thought they looked like some kind of professors. There were a scattering of prosperous looking men and women and a very large contingent of the press.

Admiral Goddard spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, members of the clergy, honored guests and members of the press, we are here today on a historic occasion. The first Christian Roman Emperor, Constantine the Great, commissioned a small statue of the Madonna and Jesus in about 320 AD which was given to the Pope by the hand of the great Emperor. When the Visigoth's sacked Rome in 410 AD, the statue was sent of St. Augustine of Hippo, now the city of Annaba here in Algeria for safekeeping. There it remained until the Muslims overran North Africa at the start of the eighth century. The statue was taken to a small Christian community and monastery on the Atlas Mountains and became known as the Madonna of the Atlas. Between then and the arrival of the French in 1831, Christians ceased to exist in North Africa and the Madonna was lost." Goddard walked to a table where something had been covered with a white cloth. He pulled the cloth off, revealing the statue that Castle, Beckett and Smith had found. "But now the Madonna of the Atlas is here, thanks to the bravery of Captain Richard Castle of the First Regiment of Foreign Cavalry, and his brave men." Goddard then launched into a description of Castle's patrol that sounded more like a major battle of the Great War than what had actually occurred.

Castle whispered in Beckett's ear. "I don't recall the two of us standing back to back fighting off a horde of scimitar armed Arabs with our cavalry sabers. In fact, I don't recall we had sabers with us."

She whispered back. "Jobert had to write the report of the patrol as you were in the hospital."

"He had some help, I'm guessing?"

"I did have to jog his memory a few times." She admitted.

"This is what you call jogging?"

"If you had written the report it would have been so boring no one would have read it. This, on the other hand, will make a great book."

Goddard interrupted the conversation and gestured to Castle. "Come forward, please, Captain."

He marched forward and saluted Admiral Goddard.

"Captain Castle, for your services to France you are hereby promoted to the rank of Major and made an Officer of the Legion of Honor." Goddard kissed Castle on both cheeks. Then Kate Beckett appeared by his side, removing his old rank badges and putting on the new ones. Her kiss was far more satisfying. The press thought so as well, as Kate was asked to kiss him again for the cameras. She did.

Jobert was promoted to full Lieutenant, and became a _Chevalier_ of the Legion of Honor. Chernoff was promoted to _Sous-Lieutenant_ and was also made a _Chevalier_ of the Legion of Honor. Smith, who Castle thought made an effort to keep his face away from the priests became an _Adjutant-Chef_ and was made a C_hevalier_ of the Legion of Honor. Kate Beckett was not promoted, being a civilian, but she was made a _Chevalier_ of the Legion of Honor.

There were innumerable questions by the press, which Castle answered briefly. Kate provided much more colorful and detailed answers. Castle thought they'd never get rid of the press.

But, eventually all of the guests were gone and Castle and Beckett were drinking champagne.

"I see your hand in this, Miss Beckett." He said with a smile, tapping his new rank badges.

She shrugged. "I merely suggested to General Gerard that it would be appropriate to reward the men most responsible for the recovery of a major Christian artifact."

"And he immediately saw a way to get his son-in-law promoted to a commissioned officer status."

Kate laughed. "I think that everyone got what they deserved."

They were interrupted by General Gerard. "Major, you and your officers won't be going back to your squadron. They want you in Paris. The President of the Republic, the Prime Minister, the Minister of War, the Minister of Culture, and many more, wish to meet you. In fact, the Prime Minister has already announced that you'll all be promoted once you reach Paris." He winked at Castle. "We may have forgotten to mention about today's promotions." Gerard then looked at Kate. "However, Major, I think you have already been rewarded with far more than the Republic of France can give you."

Castle had no idea of what to make of that, but Kate put her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

As they left, Castle took Beckett's hand. "What do we do now?"

"First, lunch, I believe. Then we'll go to my hotel. You need to tell me the complete story of why you enlisted in France and not England. You know I can tell when you're lying or not telling the whole truth, Rick. And we'll go to bed. Not necessarily in that order."

Three weeks later, Lieutenant Colonel Castle woke up in a suite of the Hotel George V in Paris. Jobert and Chernoff were now captains and Smith a Sous-Lieutenant. Goddard had apparently been very generous with promotions to other members of Castle's squadron. Even Giamatti had been promoted to _caporal. _He had at once gone off to celebrate, gotten beastly drunk, struck an NCO and was reduced back to Private by the next day.

Castle looked down on the beautiful, naked Kate Beckett, who was still asleep. He wondered how long this affair would last. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. She was also courageous, intelligent, compassionate, funny, erotic, talented, complex and confusing. However, she was a rich and famous American, and he was a Lieutenant Colonel of the Foreign Legion. He thought it might last for three more months. Six more at the maximum.

Years later when General Castle had retired after another World War, he told his beautiful wife of his prediction that long-ago day in Paris.

She laughed, a sound that he dearly loved. "Castle, I knew I was yours the moment I rode out of Fort Zinderneuf and saw you. All I had to do was convince you that you were mine as well."

"You knew the moment you saw me?" He asked, somewhat suspicious.

"The universe demanded that we be together always."

They looked at each other and said in unison, "Always."

The End

"What do you think?" He asked Beckett.

"You named the main characters after us?"

He shrugged. "It's just a story outline. I'll change the names and add more details. I might go all the way back to 320AD and have the Emperor Constantine commission that great sculptor Gaius Julius Castellus to sculpt the Madonna.

"With the help of his talented wife, Katus Beckettus?" She teased.

"Of course. And he'll be constantly harassed Ginus Cowanus who'll be demanding he work harder."

Kate laughed. "Poor Castellus. Some things never change."

Castle thought for a moment. "I'll probably just leave in in the 1920s."

"I do like the ending. Always."

He nodded. "Always."

**Author's note: The Rif tribe does exist in Morocco and in the early to mid-1920s the Rif Republic gave Spain and France all they could handle.**

**The attack of the sheep is based on a real incident. In Vietnam, a friend's platoon on a night ambush was "attacked" by a herd of feral pigs with predictable results. You can read another fictional account of that in The Last, Lost Warrior, by Tom A. Preece, available on Amazon.**

**While there are occasional real people, places and events mentioned in my story, it is entirely fictional. **

**When I was quite young, I saw the 1939 film of P.C. Wren's classic of the Foreign Legion, Beau Geste. I have since seen remakes of Beau Geste but like the 1939 one the best. I have also tracked down a few of Wren's books about the ****_Legion Etranger _****and have read tales of Legionnaires from Mexico to Tonkin. And so the gallant Richard Castle has, fictionally, joined the Legion. **

**Yes, I am still working on Lord and Lady Castle in Renaissance Italy, but up next is After Flowers for Your Grave. Just as soon as I finish it.**


End file.
